The Lover's Resolution
by Isis1
Summary: Harry's in love with someone. Read on to see who it could be. Harry/Surprise!


Harry Potter saw her sitting there at "that" table - with him.   
His silver hair falling onto her slightly pudgy cheeks -   
she would stroke his face as he whispered sweet things in   
her ear. He never thought that they would be that close.   
He saw the glance - he saw the stares - everyone saw the   
glares. From a hate sprung forth love - the hate was just   
a cover-up.   
  
  
  
Shall I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair?   
  
  
  
She was intelligent - that was just one of the many   
things about her that could be listed. Beauty was something   
that was usually not associated with her name, but over the   
past two years she become absolutely lovely - but Draco Malfoy   
had always seen this loveliness. Harry heard her giggle from   
across the great hall and the food that he had just finished   
picking at threatened to make it's way back up. Sickened -   
he hated the fact that he was the reason making her laugh. How   
could Malfoy bring such happiness to a person when all he had   
ever been to Harry was pain in the ass.   
  
He saw Malfoy trail a pale hand from her shoulder to   
the back of her hand - more disgust - more loathing. He stole   
glances from the corner of his eyes - his glasses making it look   
as if he were reading the banner on the far wall. Her skin -   
he had touched it once - accidentally while running into her   
in a hallway. She didn't recoil - only brushed past him with   
her cloak billowing behind her. Her flesh was pallid - no -   
not pallid - maybe at one time - but it looked gray now. He   
remembered, she had a calcium deficiency, that was why if she   
stood against a white wall she became translucent. But it   
would not matter if she was ghost, as long as he could touch   
the silk soften layers of her neck and shoulders.   
  
  
  
Or make pale my cheeks with care - 'Cause another's rosy are?   
  
  
  
Harry pondered briefly about his skin - rough - calloused   
from Quidditch - tanned from bright rays cascading down upon him.   
Was it that? Maybe he was too good at Quidditch. Maybe his natural   
ability to draw a crowd - his charismatic charm. Was it these   
reasons that she never looked at him the way she was looking at   
Malfoy now? Perhaps if he quit Quidditch and stayed in doors all   
the time to make the outside as pale as Malfoy - maybe then she   
would give him a chance.   
  
  
  
Be she fairer than the day, Or the flow'ry meads in May, If she   
think not well of me, What care I how fair she be?  
  
  
  
He told himself he would not care - no - not any more.   
He would never glance in their direction again. All the sensual,   
feather soft kisses and even the more passionate ones - none of   
this would interest him. Harry knew he was lying to himself -   
even as he said the words over and over - as he whispered them   
before he went to sleep - he knew that what they shared would   
always draw an un-mentionable jealous rage out of him.   
  
Harry watched them - they were in a study group now.   
Muggle Studies - he never thought he would see the day that Draco   
Malfoy would "lower" himself to learn about muggles. She must have   
convinced him to take it with her. She seemed happy to be explaing   
to him about some of the more technological advances of the   
twentieth century. He saw her scribbling notes in his notebook   
and telling him to memorize one thing or another. He sat almost   
in a dazed like state - watching her pink quill swirling and   
curving. Harry almost laughed when Malfoy yanked the quill   
away from her and held it above her head. He was such an ass.   
  
  
  
Shall my silly heart be pined - 'Cause I see a woman kind?   
  
  
  
He had stopped to bend over and pick up his books that Malfoy   
had ever so obviously knocked out of his bag. Now Harry was plotting   
revenge as he was trying to save a Potions essay from being totally   
destroyed by ink blotches. He heard footsteps and suspected it was   
one of Malfoy's goons off to attempt to kick his arse. But, unless   
suddenly Crabbe or Goyle started to wear knee-high black dragon hide   
boots - then it could only be her.   
  
Harry stood slowly - letting his eyes travel up from her feet   
to her eyes. They were warm and inviting - and the colour was a shade   
he would forever swear that he would never find a duplicate of. She   
had a bit of a scowl on her face, with a touch of a pout. He expected   
some sort of lecture, followed by yelling, but she took out her wand   
and pointed at his stained essay and books. The ink was soon gone and   
everything seemed to sparkle or maybe it was her smile that brightened   
the room. With flip of her hair, she was gone. It was deffinately the   
wrong time to make resolutions of no longer caring if she and Malfoy   
were together.   
  
  
  
Or a well disposed nature - Joined with a lovely feature?   
  
  
  
He had just finished Quidditch practice - Fred was sure a hard-ass   
- even more than Wood had been. Practices were long and grueling, but on   
the up the side they were only four days a week. It was when he saw a black   
hooded figure take a place on a bench, that he stopped - mid-air. As he   
hovered closer - she could not see him for which he was greatful - it was her.   
  
She threw back her hood and behold he found himself adoring her from   
afar once more. Harry longed to jump from the broom and take a seat at her   
side - she most likely would tell him to stay away - say that he was   
invading her space. So, he watched on with sorrow filled eyes. She   
merely sat and stared out into the vask openess of the world - of the   
grounds. He adored so many things about her - eyes, lips - but now even   
the simple silver chain she wore around her neck made him sigh longingly.   
  
  
  
Be she meeker, kinder, than Turtle-dove or Pelican, If she be not so to   
me, What care I how kind she be?   
  
  
  
The evening meal - one he had enjoyed at one time - but now all   
meals taken in the great hall, he loathed. It was a chance to see her,   
but as well to see them - together. With each glance in each other's   
direction sent a needle directly into his heart. Malfoy would love   
knowing that he was causing him so much pain and heart ache - he would   
find an even more cringe worthy topic to taunt him about.   
  
Harry pushed his plate aside - he had barely touched the food   
on the plate, but he was full yet. As he slid back his chair to leave   
he ran into to a passing by Cho Chang. Harry stumbled, but kept his   
balance - Cho on the other hand had been knocked on her arse and looked   
rather stunned. He stood dumb-founded and an almost amused look was   
etched into his face.   
  
"S-sorry, Cho - didn't see you there," he muttered.   
  
"Nice going, Potter!" Malfoy yelled.   
  
Some of Malfoy's fellow Slytherins laughed and pointed   
jeeringly at Harry.   
  
"So, that how you snog - is it, Harry? Maybe when you ask her out   
- you'll send a bludger after her," she joined in.   
  
Harry sighed and trudged back to her room. Ever since her   
and Malfoy had gotten together, his sarcasm had rubbed off increadlibly.   
Walking up the stairs he felt like a complete idiot - not only his   
enemy could get him flustered, but now her too.   
  
  
  
Shall a woman's virtues move - Me to perish for her love? Or her   
well-deservings known - Make me quite forget my own?   
  
  
  
It was utterly stupid - he was angry at Dumbledore for even   
considering it, let alone agreeing. And, he was especially angry with   
Lavender Brown for proposing the idea. So Valentine's Day was approaching -   
they hadn't had anything formal since the Yule Ball in Harry's fourth year,   
but apparently many of the femal students missed having something formal   
to go to. A Valentine's Day Ball - disgusting.   
  
It wasn't an ordinary affair, no - Lavender had been inventive   
when suggesting it to the Headmaster. There would be two cauldrons,   
one for each sixth and seventh year students. All the boys of the   
houses, depending on year, would place their name into a cauldron.   
Then, the girls of their year would pull out a name and that would   
be their date - so no one went dateless - and everyone was required   
to particapate. One word came to mind when Harry thought about who   
his date would be - vomit. What if he was paired with Lavender of   
Padma - not that they were not attractive, but he would at least   
like someone he could talk to.   
  
He saw her walk up to the sixth year cauldron and slowly dip   
her hand in to pieces of parchment. She searched for a bit and then,   
grasping on to a piece firmly, pulled it out triumphantly. She grinned   
as she read the name and raised her eyebrow in Malfoy's direction.   
Harry couldn't believe it - in their entire year she had been so lucky   
as to get her boyfriend as her date. He was convinced that Malfoy had   
rigged the cauldron.   
  
Harry was lost in thought of how Malfoy could have done it, so   
when Padma sat next to him, telling him that he was her date to the ball,   
he didn't hear. Padma nudged him, angrily.   
  
"What?!" he yelled.   
  
He hadn't meant to yell, not really. And when he gazed into Padma's   
eyes - he saw how upset he had made her. Harry instantly regretted being a   
daydreamer.   
  
"I-I said," Padma stuttered, "you're my date to the ball, Harry - so glad   
your as excited as Parvati is about going with Neville."   
  
With these words, Padma rushed off almost in tears. It was true -   
ever since he had become enamoured with her and Malfoy's relationship - he   
had turned down everyone that had asked him out. He even had almost   
completely forgotten about Cho Chang and would have too, if it were not   
for her being the Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. Harry glanced over at   
Ron and Ginny, they both were shaking their heads at him - clearly they   
didn't see that his outburst at Padma was a mis-understanding.   
  
Slowly, all gathered in the great hall were retiring, most   
if not all were happy with their dates. As she passed Harry, she   
patted him on the back, much to Malfoy's annoyance.   
  
"Better luck next time, Harry - too bad Cho is not in our year,"   
she said, quite seriously.  
  
Malfoy, lingering behind her, whipped out his wand after   
she was far ahead and wacked Harry, violently on his head. Any   
other day, Harry would have punched him, but he allowed Malfoy to   
catch up with her and walk her out of the great hall. Harry sighed,   
longingly and shook his head. Courage - where had his courage gone   
- it had flew out of his heart so swiftly as his adoration for her   
had flew in.   
  
  
  
Be she with that goodness blest - Which may merit name of Best, If she   
be not such to me, What care I how good she be?  
  
  
  
Potions now was even more disturbing than it had ever been.   
They were there - sitting together - laughing - writing - studying -   
following Snape's every whim and word - disgusting. Even on occasion,   
pulling a large book in front of them, they would sneak a kiss or, two.   
And, Harry had the misfortune to have a "perfect" view of Malfoy caressing   
her thigh.   
  
The potion to be made was not of a difficult nature - but when   
Neville had caused his cauldron to implode once, then explode the second   
time - Harry was un-nerved. She offered to help him, much to Snape's   
dismay, but none-the-less allowed her to give Neville assistance.   
Malfoy, of course, interjected that she should not have to grace her   
intelligence onto such a witless squib as Neville Longbottom. She   
playfully swatted his arm and whispered something in his ear to calm   
him. Malfoy nodded and went back to dicing ingredients for his potion.   
  
For the first time, in all of his years in potions - Harry had   
caused his own cauldron to melt. Ron was more surprised than anyone -   
kept insisting that Malfoy or some Slytherin had slipped some wrong   
ingredient in. Harry was utterly embarrased and he felt complete shame   
when Snape lectured about how "celebrities" should be more careful.   
  
He thought maybe she would now offer to help him - but it was   
not his attention to destroy a cauldron - but if it worked to his   
advantage he would have to make destroying cauldrons a regular task.   
She only shook her head destestedly in his direction - finished   
assisting Neville and went back to her place by Malfoy. Harry was   
disappointed and he let it show greatly.   
  
  
  
'Cause her fortune seems too high, Shall I play the fool and die?   
  
  
  
Harry attempted to feign illness on the night of the ball -   
but Ron made him get his arse out of bed and escort Padma - he was   
strangely experiencing a case of deja vu from the Yule Ball. Ron   
was slightly peeved that Harry had actually made Padma cry - so he   
reasoned that Harry had to make it up to her by being a complete   
gentlemen and even if he had to, at least pretend that he was   
interested in whatever gossip she had to utter.   
  
Padma looked stunning - for someone wearing a crimson dress   
on Valentine's Day - because most of every girl present was wearing   
some shade of red. Somewhere in the midst of wading through people,   
Harry had lost Ron - but that didn't matter at the moment. In a blur   
he saw a shade of pale pink dress robes - her - it was her. She was   
more beautiful than he had seen her. And Harry became even more   
jealous when many of the other male students turned catch a glimpse   
of the vision. She was dancing - gracefully - dancng - with Malfoy,   
of course.   
  
Malfoy - he had grown much in taste since their fourth year -   
his robes, Harry hated to admit, made him be one of the best looking   
at the ball. Together they made a dementingly perfect couple. It   
was them that made the room spin - they together - laughing - embracing.   
Sweet whispers of their un-dying love for one another - through all   
the music and chattering - Harry could hear them. It tore at his   
very soul and strings that held his heart in tack were lanced when   
Malfoy slipped a simply beautiful, silver ring onto her finger.   
Etched into it was his name and hers.   
  
Harry snapped - he stood calmly and stalked forth to them.   
Malfoy never saw him - he was too busy gazing at her to notice anyone   
else. Harry grabbed hold of Malfoy's robes, turning him and cleanly   
punched him. She screamed no, he believed - but he did not care.   
Malfoy had been knocked unconscious - that was the plan all along.   
  
  
  
She that bears a noble mind, If not outward helps she find,   
Thanks what with them he would do, That with out them dares   
her woo; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great   
she be?   
  
  
  
Harry was sitting in the great hall - alone - uncaring.   
He recieved detention for a month - with Snape - disgusting.   
Though Harry admitted that he deserved it, but didn't Malfoy,   
then, too deserve what he got? He slammed his head onto the   
table, enjoying the sickening thud it made as the echo embedded   
itself briefly around the hall.   
  
"You know," she drawled, from behind, "if you did that long   
enough - you might pound some sense into your head."   
  
He lifted his head and nodded, chuckling. Much to his   
surprise, she sat beside him. Harry went stiff - sure he had   
sitten beside her before - plenty of times, but now it was different.   
He could not be sure, because he had never felt it before, but he   
was almost sure that he was falling in love with her. However   
strange it seemed - he loved her from afar and now he had a   
chance to tell her everything - to tell her that Malfoy was   
wrong for her - that he could treat her like no one else could -   
he would forever be her slave if she would only adorn him with   
her attention.   
  
Harry did not dare to meet her eyes - no - he couldn't   
do that, because then he would pull her to him tightly and - he   
stopped thinking of such things. She was here, most likely to   
scold him like a bad puppy or to lecture, like she was so fond   
of doing to everyone else.   
  
"Harry, I know why you hit, Draco - well, he can be pompous at   
times - even arrogant..."  
  
"To put it lightly," he scoffed.   
  
She sighed in frustration - this wasn't easy for her to   
come out and say and if Draco saw them sitting together, however   
innocent it may be - he would kill Harry and then not speak to   
her for a month.   
  
"Okay, okay. I admit it, he is an arrogant prat - but he is   
different when were together. Nothing else matters, but us,"   
  
Harry scoffed once more - that was the problem - in   
their world they were the only ones who mattered. Harry -   
anybody else did not exist.   
  
"I know it sounds selfish, but if you knew his parents - his   
Father - is such a - such a - asshole,"   
  
He was shocked that she used that language. Only once   
had he heard utter a curse - well, it wasn't exactly muttered.   
Ron had accidentally filled his cauldron much too full and dye -   
permanent dye - had dripped onto her. Mind that it was boiling   
hot and Malfoy got splattered with a great deal of the liquid -   
she was burned.   
  
Harry - braving that he could withstand gazing into her   
warm, pulling eyes, looked up at her. She smiled, slightly, then frowned.   
  
"For the longest time I have known that you have feelings for me -   
no one else even notices that the-boy-who-lived steals tiny peeks   
of me, while my boyfriend - who I love, Harry - sits with his   
arm around me. I have eyes and ears..."   
  
"Then you heard me? I mean - I - wasn't really spying on you -   
but I knew that if anyone saw us together - well - I'm not scared   
of Draco or anything like that - but, I wouldn't want to make you angry,"   
  
She nodded and he loved the way her hair bounced loosely   
around her face. Harry had to do it - he could not resist - if   
it meant that he would never get to see her again - if he was   
never able to breathe in the subtle scent of Eucalyptus that   
followed her - he would still do it - he kissed her. She had   
been expecting him to do so - and surprisingly she let him -   
for a moment. Melodiously, she pushed him away - in truth he   
thought she would have slapped him with all her might. And,   
Harry supposed that he wished for it a bit - she liked him -   
well, tolerated might be a better word - but if she and Draco   
were not - were not...  
  
"Harry, I have told you - I love Draco - and only Draco,"   
  
She was gone - left in flurry of robe and cloak - he   
could almost still hear the calming noise they made when she   
walked. Harry once more slammed his head onto the table - the   
echo - this time - uttered not any hope, what-so-ever. Another   
deep, heavy sigh and Harry felt more alone than he ever had before.   
  
Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair;   
If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve;  
  
He had been in bed for two days - two complete days -   
sleeping or feigning sleep. He had told Ron that he was sick -   
and he was not lying exactly. His amount of food intake for the   
past week, summed up to a few rolls, juice, and a couple of   
Chocolate Frogs. But, when he didn't have the energy to go   
and play the game against Hufflepuff yesterday - he decided.   
  
  
  
If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go;  
  
  
  
Yes, he would put her out of his head - oh, he would think about   
her, but each day he vowed to do it less and less. If she did not want   
him - he refused out of pride to spend the rest of his sixth year and   
his entire seventh year mooning after a girl he could not be with.   
Malfoy was who made her happy - though he would hate Draco Malfoy   
until the day he died and they would spend all of eternity locked   
in a death grip like hold onto one another, butting heads in the   
process - he would smile lamentingly when he looked at her and he   
would never ill talk her.   
  
There was the one thing - the only thing that he would remember   
of her for the rest of his life - he had had his first kiss with her and   
he was still amazed that he had been the one to iniate it. Harry always   
figured that he would feel as if he would ruin the mood if he blurted out   
"Can I kiss you?" to the one he wanted to kiss. Yes, he would always   
remember that the very first lips that he touched with his own - was   
that of Pansy Parkinson.   
  
  
  
For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be?   
  
***NOTE***  
THE POEM WAS WRITTEN BY GEORGE WITHER - THE LOVER'S RESOLUTION 


End file.
